Harry Potter and The World of Shinobi
by chicaalterego
Summary: Dobby's latest attempt to save "The Great Harry Potter" went really bad. Now trapped in a world of ninja, Harry must face a fate even more dangerous than the one he left behind.
1. The Road to Hell

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't care. Writing this for free.

 **Summary:** Harry considered himself a very patient bloke. But, as he found himself in a brand new world, seeing Ron choking the house elf that kept getting him in trouble to "save The Great Harry Potter", he was extremely tempted to let Ron murder the little bugger.

 **AN:** I couldn't help the lack of xovers in this area with Ron and Dobby in it. So I decided to take him with Harry to the wonderful (not really) world of Shinobi. This fic takes place in the second book, so Harry and Ron are 12. Everything is cannon up to their trip to ninja-land. Hope you have a fun read.

 ** _Betaed by:Ivanoma_**

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Harry Potter and the Word of Shinobi

Chapter 1: The road to hell is paved with good intentions

As they watched McGonagall's retreating form, Harry and Ron gave a sigh of relief. They hadn't been expelled from Hogwarts, though they'd wish they had thought of sending an owl to the professors instead of getting there by flying car. Ron and Harry eventually joined their classmates, who stormed them with questions, asking them if they really did fly a car to the school. Some were even hailing their crusade as one never to be forgotten.

Harry's smile couldn't stretch further as he went to bed that night. He was finally back at Hogwarts, back at home. He could now spend time in the world he belonged in, free from the Dursleys and about to spend another magical year with the two friends that had so easily become his family. He was so lucky to have them.

"Hey, Harry, you awake, mate?" Ron peeked into his bed, moving the red curtain ever so slightly. Harry made an affirmative sound. It seems that after the excitement of the day neither was able to sleep. "Oh, Harry, did you see the face of Fred and George when they heard how we got here? It was brilliant! Worthy of the Marauders, they said (whatever that means), they were so bloody jealous!" Ron declared gleefully.

Harry grinned at his over-exited friend. It was so great to be back. And Merlin knew Harry wouldn't miss the chance to feel giddy while speaking of how great it was despite how foolish and dangerous the whole thing was. After all, tomorrow they would have to listen to Hermione rant about how stupid they had been, then she would smack them and recite something about responsibilities and whatnot. Harry could imagine Hermione eventually running out of synonyms to the word idiotic, then having cheerfully say that their stunt was so very Gryffindor.

"Well, I did see their faces. They had nothing on Neville's, though," Harry pointed out. Ron laughed, Harry joined right away.

The whispered conversation continued between small laughter, the adrenaline in their veins were enhancing the joy of victory. It was probably one of the best moments in Harry's life. He felt so alive, invulnerable even… needless to say, it was about to go to hell.

"Oh, no no no NO! The Great Harry Potter shouldn't have come to Hogwarts!" Harry was startled by the familiar voice and groaned "Dobby."

"Hey, I know what you are, you are a house elf!" Ron pointed unnecessarily then turned to Harry "what is a hose elf doing here Harry? I thought they were supposed to be in the kitchen until the rooms were empty?"

Harry, who had never even heard House Elves existed prior to this summer, was surprised by this piece of news, "there are House Elves in Hogwarts?" Harry asked and Ron looked at him like he had grown a second head.

"Of course there are House elves at Hogwarts, Harry. Who do you think makes the food and cleans the castle?"

Harry thought about it. He had never paused to think of it. He knew there was Mr. Filtch, but, now that he thought about it, there was no way a single man could make the beds of all the students in the castle, clean their clothes, clean the floors and wipe the windows. Heck, they would need several people to do any one of those tasks, with or without magic. Why had he never wondered about it before? And how many of those elves were around? If one little bugger could put him into so much trouble for his sake, he dreaded to think how he would fare against an army of them.

Harry's dread filled him to his very core.

Harry didn't answer Ron's query, a sudden realization hitting him like a Bludger. "You closed the platform's gate," Harry voiced and Ron's eyes grew wide.

"Dobby did. Yes. But The Great Harry Potter has to understand. Dobby was trying to protect The Great Harry Potter."

"That was you!?" Ron demanded incredulous.

"But Harry Potter still came to Hogwarts. The Great Harry Potter should have stayed away. Dobby will not allow The Great Harry Potter to come to harm," Dobby, who had gotten closer with every word was a breath away from him. Alarm bells were ringing in Harry's ears as those fingers inched closer. A big, ugly hand grabbed his wrist the very same instant Ron got hold of one of Dobby's ear.

With a loud 'pop' sound, Harry felt himself being whisked away from his bed. His magic rebelled at the feeling. It all happened so fast. They were in Gryffindor tower, then they weren't. They where nowhere and everywhere at the same time. It was as a hook was pulling him by the stomach, through a straw, all the while his magic and one completely foreign engaged into a battle of wills, sending waves that crippled the very fabric of reality. Harry could feel the very universe about him bend, then break. He felt more than heard himself yelling for there was no sound. It was a silence so powerful, it was deafening.

Then it was over.

One second later, Harry landed, face first, on a pile of sand. The wonderful feeling of air entering his lungs after being in the void would have been torturous even without the sand going up to his nose. There was blood on his lips and Harry suspected it came from his throat. It hurt so much. Everything did.

But then he heard a scream, not his own, and he looked to the right. Ron was curled upon himself, on top of the bloodied sand, looking as though he had gone through a meat grinder.

It took Harry longer than it should have to realize that the blood staining the sand underneath his friend meant his carrot-haired pal was bleeding profusely.

"RON!" Harry yelled in panic, trying to get up, only for a wave of nausea to make him tumble face first into the sand again. Determined to get to his friend, Harry used his elbows and arms to crawl his way forwards. The acute pain in his leg informed Harry that something was wrong with it, but he ignored it to get to his best friend.

"Ron, talk to me! what happened to you! Why are you bleeding?!" Harry whisper-yelled with his damaged throat. Panic laced every syllable. Ron grunted but kept on moaning, he was losing blood fast.

"Harry Potter's friend has been splinched." A new wave of nausea hit Harry as he turned around towards the source of the voice: Dobby.

"Splinched?" Harry asked, completely unfamiliar with the term. Dobby nodded. "Can you help him?" Harry let out like a plea.

Dobby shook his head. "Dobby is a house elf. Only Wizards know how to heal splinches. So Dobby can't heal Harry Potter's friend."

Harry felt his stomach drop. "We need to get Madam Pomfrey. Ron is going to die if he stays like this!"

"No," Dobby said with finality. "The Great Harry Potter cannot go to Hogwarts this year. If Harry Potter goes to Hogwarts, Harry Potter will be in grave danger!"

"In grave danger?" Harry asked incredulous. "So are you going to let my friend die because you don't want me to be in danger?"

Dobby looked conflicted, then the resolve took over once more. "Dobby will save Harry Potter's friend, if Harry Potter promises he won't go back to Hogwarts this year."

Harry felt like he had been slapped with those words. Hogwarts was his home. He belonged there. He needed to be back! But… could he really risk Ron's life just so he could go back?

No. He couldn't.

"Fine!" Harry snapped. "I won't go back this year!"

"Harry Potter has to swear it," Dobby demanded.

"Shite. I swear I… I swear I won't go back to Hogwarts this year… Happy?" Harry growled. Once Ron wasn't bleeding himself to death he was going to murder the little elf.

"Harry Potter swore!" Dobby cheered, then moved towards them, taking both his hand and Ron's, then tried to Apparate. 'Tried' being the operative word. Harry felt himself be pulled by a navel, through a straw again, only this time he felt like he had come out of the straw stright into a brick wall, then forced backwards through the same straw until his back hit the sand. The landing was as horrible as the first, but this time was worst, for the smell of blood and the magic backlash were revolting to a new level.

Harry threw up.

The Boy-Who-Lived felt his head swim as the panicked voice of a house elf filled his eardrums. He would not faint there. Ron needed him. _'Think, Harry, think. You have been in the infirmary longer than most first years, so, what did you learn?'_ Harry forced his head to remember the experience. He had been unconscious for most of it, but he did remember some blue potion being forced down his throat, and a red one, and a pink one… There were no potions in the dessert. "Well, so much for that," Harry mumbled, then tried to take on another road. What did he knew of the muggle way? Bandages and alcohol. It would hurt like a bitch, Harry figured, but it was all his 12 year-old mind could provide he could do by himself. Sort off.

One way or another, he was not going to let the elf try to teleport him away again.

"Dobby!" Harry yelled at the elf, who was hitting himself in the head with a frying pan… where in Merlin's name had Dobby gotten the frying pan?

 _'Magic, duh.'_

"Dobby, I need you to lift Ron up like you did Aunt Petunia's cake, can you do it?" Harry commanded, Dobby nodded and a snap of his finger latter had the red-head floating. The bloodied sand cascading down from his body made Harry wince, belatedly realizing he had nothing to wrap around his friend's wounds. "Shite," then remembered the frying pan. "Dobby, I need you to summon bandages. Lots of bandages. And something to clean the wounds,"

With another finger-snap, there were dozens of gauze rolls floating in the air, along with a bottle of something Harry assumed was to put in the wounds. Harry poured the yellowish liquid, then hurriedly began wrapping every bit of exposed of Ron's skin, being aware of the fact he was trapping a lot more sand that should be healthy underneath the bandages. Soon enough, however, Harry saw himself on the need to strip Ron… which was hard. Undressing a floating person whose clothes were heavy with sweat and blood was difficult without the use of spells, but Harry knew none of those.

In the end, Ron looked like a mummy that had been wrapped in red bandages. The bandaging was clumsy and inefficient, but with a limitless supply of gauze Harry eventually managed to make wrap thick enough to keep the blood to keep from falling. Ron looked more like a cocoon than a human being.

Dobby had been uncharacteristically silent the whole time. Harry would latter realize. Harry finished with his friend's emergency wrap, Ron was now feverish and horribly pale on the few patches of face Harry let open so his friend could breathe. Hopefully, it would keep Ron alive long enough for Harry to find help. On the middle of the dessert. On foot… Crap.

"Where did you take us, Dobby? If you know where we can get a doctor… erm, 'healer' to help Ron it would be a great moment to tell me. Please."

The elf began to sob "Harry Potter said 'please' to Dobby."

Bloody hell, don't let him get started with that again. "Dobby, Ron is dying so it's kind of urgent," Harry tried to calm Dobby down from another emotional moment like the one he had on Privet Drive a few weeks ago.

That one felt like forever ago.

"Dobby doesn't know where this place is. Dobby was trying to get the Great Harry Potter back home, but Harry Potter's magic made Dobby's magic go wrong."

"So we are lost," Harry summarized "Great. And there is still the statute of secrecy, muggle's can't see you or Ron floating around, can they?" Harry groaned. He had heard horror stories from Hermione about how people got forever banned from the wizarding world because they breached the statute. Harry would never be allowed back Hogwarts if he brought Dobby and Ron with him and a muggle saw them. And, considering his luck, that would be exactly what would happen.

But Harry was willing to risk it if that meant his friend would live. "We should look for help." Harry declared, picking a random direction to start walking. He didn't need to ask Dobby to follow, Harry knew he would do so and bring along a floating Weasley with him; after all, Dobby was still babbling about wanting to save Harry and other such nonsense. Crazy elf.

…

Nothing. Absolutely nothing remotely resembling civilization was in sight. It made Harry want to pull his hair until he was bald. The continuing mumbling of Dobby was almost as maddening as the fact Ron had yet to wake up. Harry was also hungry, and thirsty, and his body hurt after the elf's teleporting technique; not to mention that sand had managed to get even into his trousers.

Harry's eyes were blurry, and not only because his glasses were constantly covered in sand: He was about to pass out.

"Harry Potter, sir, someone is approaching." Harry felt relief course his body at Dobby's words but the mirth was dampened by the surprise at seeing an approaching wave of sand that was at least two stores high.

"What is that?" Harry asked startled.

The question would remain unanswered as the wave came closer and Harry could see a red head on top of the moving dune. Which was odd, but hey, Wizards used chimneys to travel around, so why not a moving dune?

"Hey! Over here!" Harry shouted as hard as he could as he realized that, whoever that was, was not moving towards them. The person on the dune hadn't heard Harry, the person was too far. So Harry did the logical thing when trying to get a wizard too far away to get closer: he used magic.

"Lumos!" Harry channeled all his remaining magic into the spell and a ball of light the size of a truck shone true in the night sky with such a force it all turned white for a second. Harry wasn't able to hold the light for long, he was exhausted, but at least he accomplished what he had been aiming at: getting the other wizard's attention.

The wave of sand moved until it was a couple meters further away from them, then stopped and started lowering itself until it fused once more with the dessert underneath Harry's feet. The Boy-Who-Lived was surprised to see a kid, at least a head shorter than him and Ron –-'Ron and I, Harry' his inner Hermione corrected but he chose to ignore the feeling. It was not the time for getting distracted. "Thank Merlin you saw us. My friend needs help. He got splinched in our way here, so he needs to see a healer… there are healers around here, right? There have to be. Please. I don't have any money on me, but if you lend me and owl I could get someone at Hogwarts to bring me some from Gringots…" Harry kept on rambling nonstop.

Thankfully, there was a part of Harry's brain that was paying attention to the body language of the tattooed, red-haired kid with the creepy, black circles around his eyes. So, when lance-shaped sand-things came towards him, Harry ducked to the side.

"Why did you do that?!" Harry demanded. The kid, who Harry now decided should be around 6, maybe 7, spoke back and Harry was suddenly aware that the kid didn't understand a word of his long spiel. "Oh, bugger," Harry let out as he noticed the mad glint in the kid's eyes. Language barrier or not, he recognized the look of someone who was trying to kill him.

"We need to get out of here!" Harry announced to the house elf and his unconscious friend.

"I won't allow you to hurt Harry Potter!" Dobby yelled and a shimmering shield rose in the way of the second incoming attack and saved Harry from certain death, but that was as far as its usefulness went. After all, a plate-shaped shield only could do so much against the sand when you were in the middle of a freaking dessert.

Tattoo Kid attacked a third time from a different direction, words that made no sense to Harry traveling in the dry wind. Dobby was doing the best he could to form shield after shield while Harry tried piecing together a plan. He was coming up with a whole lot of nothing.

The one-sided battle between elf and tattooed lunatic had only been going for a couple of minutes, but it felt a lot longer. Dobby was getting more sloppy with each shield and Harry knew the elf wouldn't be able to hold much longer. "Wingardium leviosa!" Harry yelled towards the attacker, hoping it would buy him time to think of a spell in his limited repertory that he could use to fight. The kid seemed both baffled and murderous, and Harry could see the kid controlling the sand even from his floating point above him. The sand all over the place started moving like waves again and Harry's knew what to do. Thankful that the minutes of rest he had gotten while Dobby fought, and knowing the little elf had his back if his plan failed completely, Harry waved his wand, and the incoming wave of sand turned into one made of water. Incidentally, Harry was incapable of using the levitation charm and transfiguring stuff at the same time, so Tattoo Kid fell downwards straight to the transfigured pond of water.

And of course, throwing a huge amount of water into the sand made the ground unstable, turning the regular desert dunes into moving sand. The Tattoo Kid was buried alive into the parting sand.

Harry had killed a kid. The realization made a chill run down the young wizard's spine. Green eyes got trapped into green as Harry and Dobby exchanged a uncertain look…

Then the ground started to shake.

"GROARR!" A giant, beige claw with rose from the spot the kid had vanished at, then another, until a giant monster materialized on the moving sand.

"Bloody hell!" Harry cursed. The beast looked towards him with pure, single-minded rage, and, although it had yet to free itself from where it was half-buried, Harry knew it would loose himself soon enough if it kept on trashing like it was.

What happened next was as unexpected as the apparition of the monster. A dozen men dressed like ninja started shooting the beast with both weapons and unknown spells that seemed to manipulate the sand like the kid had been doing before.

Not wanting to get mixed in yet another fight while he was both magically drained and physically exhausted, he whispered to Dobby to take them away to somewhere else. Somewhere far away from here. Dobby warned Harry he would be Apparating blindly since he could not take them back to England for some reason. Harry didn't care about where he appeared, for he was instinctively aware that by staying they would be at the mercy of the men fighting the monster, if not the monster himself.

Harry commanded Dobby to do as he had asked.

Harry, Dobby and an unconscious Ron would latter find themselves between sickly tress and withering flowers, the ground beneath their feet was swampy and gross, and a cloud of flyers were swarming around the corpse of some small animal. The ugliness of the place didn't dampen the relief at being away from that freaking dessert.

They were safe.

Now that they were no longer in mortal peril, Harry's body stopped pumping adrenaline into his veins, making The-Boy-Who-Lived faint on the spot.

 _To Be Continued._

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 **AN:** I know I shouldn't be writing this. I have too many ongoing fics and I don't really have a long term plan on this one. However, I couldn't keep myself from typing this. I needed something to kick me back into writing because I know if I don't do so in a while then I take forever to do so… anyway, I hope all of whom are following my fics like this one enough not to want to kill me for getting side-tracked.

Also, I wanted to post this after I got Doeskin 7 out of the way, or had some idea of where this is going, but I couldn't wait anymore... sadly, updates will be slow an irregular. Hope you are not too mad because of that.

Thanks again to Ivanoma for being a super awesome beta who fixed typos and other small mistakes I always overlook.

Don't forget to review!


	2. Nightmares and Meetings

**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Don't care. Writing this for free.

 _Edited on 09-04-2017: There were mistakes and was kind of crappy overall. Sorry about that._

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Chapter 2: Nightmares and Meetings

Harry opened his eyes, unsurprised to find himself in an ever-so-familiar small, dusty room... no, not a room, a cupboard, his cupboard under the stair. His hand traveled up, searching for the thin chord that turned the cupboard's light-bulb on. His old "room" -the one he had occupied before the Durdsleys moved him to Dudley's second room- seemed more cramped than ever with Hedwings cage taking away half of his dingy bed. Harry felt the familiarity of the cupboard soothe him. Which was odd, he hated that room as much as he hated Harry Hunting, maybe even more. At least there wasn't sand in his cupboard -though why that was such a good thing evaded him.

The sound of meat hitting wood came from outside along with Uncle Vernon's customary yells and complaints about him being lazy and not having the food done while Aunt Petunia's voice carried around the latest gossip in the neighborhood. "It was time you got out of there ungrateful child," she scowled after she noticed him. The little payback he had gotten out of their relatives while shouting "hocus pocus" all over the house, since they didn't know he wasn't allowed to use magic out of the house, was over... Not that he remembered how they discovered that, but something at the back of his mind told him it was an important event.

Shrugging off, Harry proceeded to slave in the kitchen while the two whales in the room engulfed several cows worth of bacon and sausages. 'No wonder there is so much hunger in the world'. When the breakfast of his esteemed family was over and aunt Petunia kissed the flabby cheek of her obese husband, Harry fished around the little food he had purposely burnt so it became too unappetizing to save as leftovers the next day. Aunt Petunia looked at him down her nose, her big-nosed thin frame, matched with her long neck, made her look like a horse who got half-way into becoming a giraffe before God decided the animal kingdom should be spared, thus He turned her into a human. Harry's thoughts on why his uncle and cousin were human went among those lines too, but they obviously belonged to another species than his aunt.

But humor can only take you so far when cooping with your shitty luck. And the humor Harry got with his mental images could not cope with the feeling of loneliness he got when his hated relatives walked out and locked the door with him inside.

Normally, a home alone day for Harry meant he could sit around and be lazy for a while, even watch the telly but, for some reason, today the loneliness only reminded him that his two best friends hadn't written him all summer.

The smell of something burning traveled from the room Harry had just vacated into his nose, so he decided he could mope later. If he forgot the stove on and something important caught fire he was going to end up with bleeding ears with all the shrieking his aunt would make at the sight, not to mention all the bruises he would get from his uncle who kicked with all the force of a truck of lard. But it was not the stove what was on fire, the wooden cabinets, the curtains and the floor tiles were aflame. He didn't understand how the floor and furniture started to burn until he saw his relatives grinning viciously from outside the window. Harry ran towards the window, trying to open it with all the strength his 11 year-old body could muster, but it was in vain. He pleaded for them to get help, wondering over and over why they were doing this to him, but they simply stood there, eager to watch him burn.

Rapidly concluding his chances of survival depended entirely upon him, Harry ran towards the door and tried to open it. Upon failure, he tried his luck with the windows of the first floor. Nothing, he had been shut inside the burning house to roast alive.

Hoping against hope he could escape by the second floor, he checked Dudsley's second room, there he saw his friends Ron and Hermione shouting at him from Mr. Weasley flying car. Not wasting any time, Harry jumped with his arms extended to catch his friends arms. Then the flying car started to move further from danger and ground and Harry didn't resist the temptation to laugh at the Dursleys's shocked faces... Victory was short-lived, though. A clump of something gray and dusty fell squarely in his face making him look up to see his two mates turning to dust from the arms they had grabbed him just as Professor Quirrel had while trying to pry the philosopher stone out of his grip.

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"NOOOOOO!" Harry awoke with a yell, arms stretched up. His forehead was damp and his heart was pumping blood as if Harry had just been playing a Gryfyindor vs Slythering Quidditch match.

"The great Harry Potter is awake!" A voice cut through the confusion The-Boy-Who lived was feeling; he recognized that voice.

"Dobby?" Harry asked, now remembering all the little details that evaded him in his dreams.

He was not in the house of his relatives, nor was he in Hogwarts (where he was supposed to be in this time of a year). No, he was trapped in the middle of who knows where with a house elf and a very hurt Ronald Weasley... "Ron!" Harry looked around frantically, then relaxed somewhat when he noticed his best friend was right beside him. The tension in Harry came back tenfold as he noticed his mate was deadly pale, but somehow managing to sport the pinkish flush of high fever.

"Dobby we need to get Ron to a hospital!" Harry urged the house elf, who looked sheepishly to his feet.

"Dobby tried to take the Great Harry Potter's friend to St Mungos, but Dooby's magic doesn't want to take Dobby to places. Dobby is sorry," Dobby looked so miserable Harry didn't have the heart to get mad at him.

"It's ok, Dobby, we will figure something out."

"The great Harry Potter is so kind. Dobby doesn't deserve the great Harry Potter's-"

"Dobby, please, don't start with that again," Harry begged, feeling a deja-vu. The groveling of the house elf was several layers of disturbing to the young magician. It felt wrong and made him feel like he was bulling the elf, even when that was an irrational notion since the one doing the groveling was the only one eager for that to happen.

Now that Harry wasn't recently awaken from a nightmare and that he knew pushing the elf would be of no use, the Boy-Who-Lived smelled the horrid stink coming out of the tent. "What the hell is that smell?" Harry put his hands over his nose in a vain attempt to shield him from the horrid air. "It smells like dead cat and clogged toilet."

Not waiting for a reply, Harry peeked his head out of the tent. A look to the outside might spark some idea of what he ought to do, and with some luck they would be close enough to people that Harry could get some help. No such luck. They were in what looked like a swamp with mosquitoes the size of mockingbirds. "We need to get going," Harry decided, "Ron won't get any better without a doctor looking over him, and it would take us who knows how much to find people to do that. So we need to hurry."

Having said those words, Harry spun around, almost falling face first into some disgusting mini pond when a dizzy spell hit him. "The Great Harry Potter doesn't be well. Dobby will take the Great Harry Potter and the Great Harry Potter's friend around while people is not around." Before Harry could give his opinion, fingers snapped and he found himself floating horizontally. A second snap of fingers latter the tent was gone, and after the third an unconscious Ron was floating by his side.

Harry was trying to figure out how it was possible to have so many weird things happen in 24 hours... then again, he didn't really know how long he was out of it and was reluctant to ask. Harry also didn't know how many meals he had jumped since he are at the Weasleys before they took them to the Platform 3/4. Not that he was hungry -the smell killed any chance of that happening- but he mused that the hunger could have something to do with his dizziness.

It took a lot longer than Harry would have liked to stop being led around like a balloon, and when it happened it was so abrupt he barely had time to yelp before his body met the soft ground with a thud. It was official, Harry now wanted to punch Dobby's giant nose even more than he ever wanted to punch Snape's. That is, until he heard the sound of bushed rusting. Curious, Harry made an effort to sit, which send him into another dizzy spell. He sat there with the hands grabbing his forehead as the world around him spun so much he couldn't see past his nose.

"Oni-san, Anata wa bujidesu ka?"The voice of what soon revealed to be dark haired boy with a funny-shaped nose and a green beret, reached Harry. Of course, Harry had no idea of what the boy just told him. Harry felt his stomach drop at the foreign words, but couldn't help but hope that the boy might understand English, so Harry could ask the boy for help.

"My friend is hurt," Harry pointed towards Ron, who lay bleeding in the floor next to Harry, "he needs to go to a hospital!" there was a palpable sense of urgency in Harry's voice. The boy gave Ron and Harry a look before running back from where he came. Harry's fear of being left behind were put at ease when he came back with a nun that had long blond-brown hair and pretty grey-green eyes that zeroed on Ron as she hastily made her way towards the red-head. A step behind from the nun was a boy around Harry's age, wearing black nun-ish clothes (minus the head garment), who made his way towards Harry right away.

Harry could see green hands get closer to his head, the pounding dizziness subsiding a great deal. The world was coming back into focus, and Harry spotted that the nun's hands were glowing green as well. One of the unnecessarily long bandages that had been wrapped around Ron's head was in a bloody heap in the ground, but the gash that had once covered, which was now in the open, was being closed by the green glow, leaving behind angry, red scars that no longer bleed. Harry felt a tad relieved that the woman was capable of tending Ron, and Harry felt himself slump when the panic lost its edge, and his heart stopped pumping enough adrenaline into his body to keep him from fighting the mental and physical exhaustion in his body.

Harry's vision got marred with dark spots, and the last thing he saw before oblivion claimed him was the grey-haired boy that had been tending him running towards Ron and the nun.

Thank Merlin that they had been found by healers.

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Harry felt like he was floating in the sea. The waves swayed him side to side and he swore that if they kept the swaying up he would puke on them. He opened his eyes a little, flashes of green and brown danced in his eyes before, making the nausea worse. He abandoned his attempt for waking up there and then, and let the sway continue while his eyes were closed.

The next time Harry opened his eyes he was resting on plain ground, bandaged and sore, but decidedly better than he had been before. He managed to sit down, looking all around him for Ron. There were many bodies laying on the ground -most grown men that had had bandages in several places- but none of them had the distinctive carrot-colored hair of his best friend. Ron wasn't beside Harry, who who now sat on the blanket that he had been placed on. The air smelt heavily of blood and smoke, but the stank of the swamp was no longer there, and the canopy of trees over Harry's head were gone, leaving him laying unprotected from the sun that shone brightly over his head. It had barely been a minute of Harry being awake when he spotted the tents a ten meters or so away from him. People were coming in and out from under the white fabric, and Harry was somehow sure Ron was in one of those. Harry stood up with great effort, the protest of his pale skin after getting sun burnt couldn't hold a candle to the protest of his bruised muscles. Still, the will to find Ron was mightier than the pain, and his feet dragged themselves forwards until he was making it to the nearest (and biggest) tent. Once inside, it was clear to Harry why he had been placed outside: the place was beyond cramped, with people who looked as though they had gotten a herd of centaurs to stomp all over them.

Harry limped through, eyes roaming around until they settled on Ron's limp form. His friend was wrapped almost from head to toe in bandages, brown eyes closed. "RON!" He yelled and made to run towards him, but a firm grip on his arm kept him in place. Harry's head moved from Ron, to the hand gripping his elbow, to the palest person Harry had ever seen. Harry was unsure if the person was a man or a woman, since he could spot long hair hiding a pretty face that had yellow eyes and purple make up-like marks, but could also spot muscles on the arms of his captor and a flat chest... a magical creature maybe? Harry glared and tried to break free, but a manly voice came out of his thin, white lips "Shōnen wa, kore wa anata ga acerca o jikkō suru tame no asobibade wa arimasen"1. Needless to say. Harry didn't understand a word the man said.

Another voice speaking in that foreign tongue, this distinctly female, came from Harry's right, "Shōnen o tebanashimasu, Orochimaru-san"2. Harry recognized the nun that had rescued him and Ron, and was torn between thanking her or asking her about Ron first... then again, none might be an option if she could not speak English. Thankfully Harry didn't need to say a word, because he was promptly pulled towards Ron's bed as soon as the girly man let go.

"Anata no yūjin wa hidoku fushō shimashita. Kare wa ima wa antei shite imasuga, mewosamasu ka dō ka wa wakarimasen."3 The woman told Harry gently- It sounded like an explanation, and while Harry apreciated the effort, it was a futile action all the same.

"Can you speak English by any chance?" Harry asked. By the was her brows furrowed, Harry might as well have said that in Gobbledegook. The woman looked Harry with a weird expression, then lifted a finger in front of her lips, clearly asking Harry to keep quiet. Harry nodded in understanding, and remained where he stood by Ron's bed. The woman smiled her approval, then briskly walked away towards one of the many wounded in the tent.

As the minutes tickled by, Harry saw many people come and go carrying swords and weird triangular knifes. Harry saw scrolls of what might have been parchment being used to stash old, bloodied bandages and sometimes even the bodies of those that could not be healed fast enough. Harry had never seen so many hurt people, nor had he seen so many people die. The image of men with purple and black veins screaming themselves to death, or convulsing while chocking in their own blood was something that frightened Harry... he was made aware that wherever he had landed was more dangerous that anywhere he had been before.

The memory of a small kid with blood-red hair and green eyes, carrying trying to murder the in the desert flashed in Harry's mind-eye. He also remembered the sand monster that had crawled from bellow the dunes Harry had buried the kid in. Harry had killed, not once but twice now. And his killing of a child, even to protect Ron and himself, had broken something inside Harry that had begun breaking when he accidentally took Quirrell's life.

Trying to distract himself of the blood in his hands, Harry focused on his surroundings. There were more deaths, but even more were those that ended up being saved. But, then, as he quietly took everything in, he noticed something he should have before: none of this people didn't have wands.

Harry understood that, whatever this people were, they were not wizards and that using magic could draw attention to him. Irrationally, Harry was sure that if the people around paid attention to him, they would realize what Harry had done and take him to jail for his crimes.

Fearfully, Harry tried to make himself as small as possible, his eyes no longer roaming all around the room.

* * *

The sun started to set in the horizon, turning the blue sky several shades or pink, dark blue and orange. The men that had been put on the ground before had been healed of their wounds, then, after paying some coins to the healers, they had left in groups towards the setting sun. Now the place was deserted save from the healers that dressed a lot like nuns and priests with their white aprons and collars over black robes. It was clear to Harry that these people were exhausted after a long day, but that didn't stop the adults around him from systematically taking down everything human made in the ares, tents included. Then, when there was only barren earth to be seen, the healers moved away, barely giving Harry and Ron second looks.

Harry, despite his want to talk to them or follow, remained quiet and put, obediently waiting for the woman that had rescued Ron and him to make her was from the moving mass of healers. And come towards Harry and Ron she did, and next to her were the grey-haired boy and the one with the green beret, both carrying a stretcher made of bamboo and sturdy fabric.

 _'They probably got that from out of one of those scrolls'_ Harry mused absently. The woman gave him a soft smile and offered him her hand, and Harry took with apprehension, but willing to trust his savior. The boys lifted Ron from the floor with the stretcher and before long the five of them were on their way towards the forest, they walked until the sun sank completely in the horizon, the moonlight not being enough to light their way.

That night they camped in under the stars. The next one, after walking all day, they rested in a cave beside a stream. Then, at the dawn of the third day they arrived to a building made completely of wood, in front of which children chased each other in a merry play of tag.

The laughter did nothing to uplift Harry's spirit: on the tree days it took them to arrive this place, Ron had yet to wake up.

* * *

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* * *

 **AN** ( _09-04-2017)_ **:** I made a little re-write of this chapter. It was really bad. Also, it didn't quite fit canon. I also made little fixes on ch1, but nothing more than fixing a typo or two, and make Gaara 6 instead of 8... Anyway, for those who want to know what was said in Japanese:

1: this is not a playground for you to run about

2: let the boy go, Orochimaru-san.

3: Your friend was badly wounded. He's stable now, but we don't know if he will wake up.


End file.
